Call Me Mina
by BC
Summary: Post HBP spoilers! 17th of July 1997 witnesses a strange meeting that inspires two different young people thrown into the centres of two different wars.
1. Call me Mina

I've committed another _crime_. But don't sue me, I'm not making profit of it. I'm doing it for the sheer excitement of breaking the laws.

A/N: My first complete crossover! (although I have another one started somewhere…) I wanted to do this for so long!  
Yeah, well, I know it is called 'complete', but… that is temporary, to draw attention. It all depends on the feedback – you want more, you get more. But I warn you – shall I continue this, it will get very, very different.  
Please, do consider that this story begins in 1997, and I'm going with the anime timeline, which means that Harry is soon-to-be-seventeen, and Integra is eighteen years old. She wouldn't react exactly as the Integra we know from the series and manga, because she still has three years to grow before she becomes the character we know. Also, we don't quite know yet how is Harry going to deal with Dumbledore's death once the initial confusion and hurt are gone and he has had time to think about it. As far as I know, this story respects both canons in every aspect.  
Brynn

17th of July 1997

There are things in your life you know you can't escape from.  
But you try.  
Then again, isn't trying to escape from things you know you cannot escape from one of the things that make you human?

Integra cursed glancing briefly into the driving mirror and crossed the speed-limit. There was going to be Hell to pay anyway. Then again, she had known it when she decided to pull the stunt. Luckily, the motorcycle she had taken was one of the 'government's', so she didn't have to worry about being stopped by the police at the wrongest of times.

She didn't have it planned out and that fact solely was enough to make her nervous. What if someone didn't care about the licence plate and stopped her anyway? What if they found out she wasn't of age yet? What if they wanted to see her legitimation? What if they noticed she was armed?

Quite frankly, it was the worst day she had had since her memorable seventeenth birthday. Those old gaffers, the smile on Her Majesty's face, stack of black-framed documents sporting little ornamental cross in left upper corner on her desk, the Abomination… she was mad even at _Walter_, for making her go there… She had just lost it. Facing the gates of _her_ Manor, she _knew_ she couldn't fight against the fanged monster anymore… not today. She would have caved in, she _knew_ it. Just given up. Let him through to her… because it was so much easier…

'God, I hate them all…'

She relied on her left hand for a few seconds and wiped her tears into the right sleeve of her shirt. Her vision had been blurrying and she couldn't afford that. _That_ – the tears she knew were to come sooner or later – had been the primary reason for her escape. She simply couldn't let Alucard see her weak. He would suspect it upon her return, of course. Centuries of gathered experience were enough for even someone of low intelligence to saw through it and she never was as arrogant as to underestimate her 'servant'.

All she had on her mind now was to find some place where nobody knew her, cry her eyes out, get drunk and cherish every minute of her screwed existence before she died for the Land, the Queen, the God, or whoever it was she was fighting for. Just about anybody but herself.

'This looks acceptable.' She parked the motorcycle at the edge of the sidewalk and locked it to a hydrant. There was a play-park and seeing as it was too hot for anybody in their right mind to get out of their house, it was empty. Well, almost.

HPH

Another day had dawned. Harry had got up at six and fled before the other inhabitants of the house came round. He snatched an apple from the kitchen, wondering how did something so healthy get inside, frowning at the memory of uncountable mornings when he got up just as early, though not to flee yet to prepare breakfast. For all of _them_.

'It must be driving them crazy… They _hate to_ keep me here, but _can't_ make me do anything…'

He went out into the empty streets. Even as early as it was, the temperature was uncomfortably high. It rivalled the summer two years ago, though watering plants had not been banned yet.

'It won't take long now… just two weeks and I am free to go and hunt him down…' His scowl deepened as he thought of his resolution. He wouldn't step back now. Not that he could, anyway… at least he was going to have Ron and Hermione with him. Though he hated to take them into the danger, especially knowing from experience that they were _not_ fit to face it.

'But what else can I do? Go alone and get killed? What would _that_ help?'

His feet followed the direction his nose pointed in, and so it happened that he ended in the very same place as almost every day lately. The play-park. It was vacant today; the children that would usually spend their time there were either on holidays or somewhere inside, hidden from the risk of getting sunstroke. He wished he had thought of taking some water to drink. It wouldn't look too well if he were to battle Voldemort all shrivelled up and dry… wouldn't look good _on the front page_…

… Roar of an engine, so rare in the quiet environment of the hottest July day he remembered, startled Harry from his thoughts. He wished he had treated his watch more cautiously, but looking at the sun, it must have been well past the noon.

'Shit. I must have a sunburn like Hell…' But one look at his hands proved him wrong. 'Guess magic is the best sun lotion after all…'

The engine sounded again, returning in the opposite direction. He scoffed at the stupidity of people who couldn't find better ways of killing time. Like sitting on a swing for hours, for example.

But then the sound stopped, and it stopped too close for him to actually feel comfortable. Did some of Dudley's buddies own a motorbike? It seemed likely… Harry looked up again. There was the thing, parked on the sidewalk – what kind of ignorant parks on a sidewalk? – and its rider was currently bent over behind it, undoubtedly abusing the hydrant as a stand.

Not that he cared, as long as they left him alone…

Then she straightened. Well, it took him some time to be certain that she was a 'she', because she was wearing a decidedly man's clothes – uniform green pants and the same green vest over a common white blouse. The image of a soldier – _an officer_ – on vacation was completed by black boots.

However, as soon as she disposed of the crash helmet, there were no doubts. Long platinum curtain of hair, that reminded him strongly of Fleur fell free, framing her face. She resembled a _Veela_, but at the same time lacked the sensuality the magical creatures possessed.

Strangely, he sort of wished she wouldn't leave him alone. If for nothing else, then to make a ripple on the sufrace of the ocean of boredom he was drowning in.

HPH

Integra flipped her hair out of her face and glanced at her watch. It showed half past one in the afternoon – well, predictably, as she fled before lunch. She already could see Walter trying to tie her to a chair just in case… exactly this case… tomorrow at the same time. Then again, Walter was _her_ guardian and _her_ subordinate and he would let her go when she ordered him to…

'Or wouldn't. Hell, Walter is almost as obstinate as I am. Damn it all. Another squad slaughtered, another meeting of the Round Table spent listening to carefully disguised insults, another shitty day in this shitty world…'

Lost in her musings she almost walked into the fence. It was about waist tall and the planks were pointed, so it wouldn't have been too comfortable; fortunately her fighter's instincts kicked in in the last instant. She used her momentum and jumped over it with relative ease. It wasn't as smooth as she would have wished it to be, but there was a spare foot between her and the spikes, so she considered it alright.

There was no graceful landing, not that she would care about one. The only who cared about grace in the middle of a battle (not that she was in the middle of a battle right now, but… she guessed her life could be considered one continuous battle) were vampires and those were the ones destroyed in the end. She had a good reason to believe that their approach wasn't the most effective one.

'_My_ approach is the most effective one. Always. By blood. By tradition. By fucked-up goddamn duty. I can't even-'

"Wow."

She spun to the right, reflexively reached for her Beretta, but stopped her hand as soon as she realised that she was in no immediate danger. There was a boy sitting on the swing. An ordinary, sun-resistant boy. Unarmed, by the look of it, though probably dangerous. At the first sight he seemed as a homeless to her, dressed in worn clothes that didn't fit him and sitting in the park while he should have been hiding from the heat in a living room with air-conditioning. A criminal.

But then her eyes wandered to his face and she realised there was something in hin that didn't fit that assessment – he was clean, had delicate features, and his eyes shone with concealed intelligence. Even _if_ he was a homeless, he wasn't _that_ kind of a homeless. He wasn't a _criminal_. She dealt with criminals often enough to be able to ascertain that.

"Eh, sorry… I just… that was amazing." He smiled and she relaxed, now certain that he meant no harm. Civillians were often like that. When there weren't too many of them in one place, she grudgingly admitted she might like them a little bit. Their obliviousness always fascinated her.

"Thank you. Though it was not the point."

He nodded.

"Yeah, I suppose… the shortest and fastest way. Albeit dangerous."

She just barely stopped herself from gaping open-mouthed. He was just a kid – she guessed him to be a few years younger than herself. He should have reckoned she was showing off, not understand it as a strategy… what kind of civillian – not to speak about a _child_ – thought like that?

'A chess-player, maybe?'

"You want to be alone?" he asked, startling her for the second time in less than a minute. She knew she wasn't so transparent – not even Alucard could predict her reactions anymore, _how _in the name of seven Sins could_ he?_ She nodded.

He lifted himself from the swing and flexed the muscles of his back. Despite standing straight, he reached only to her chin, but she was way above average, and she knew it. Though she had to admit she never regretted being tall; it made dealing with soldiers considerably easier…

She liked being the leader, being the person her men looked _up_ to and trusted… she liked giving orders and watching the monsters being slayed… she _loved_ _slaying_ the monsters…

…but sometimes it just felt good to leave that 'world' and pretend that they were all safe, no undead existed, and life was jolly good.

"Don't go because of me. Would you mind company?"

HPH

She was definitely not a _Veela_. She also wasn't any other magical being, just a girl, though judging by what he had seen unordinary by any and all standards. Despite the uniform clothing she was strikingly beautiful, she was fast and sharp – as he could see – _and_ she reached for weapon when he had surprised her.

The first idea that crossed his mind was that she's a witch, but she showed no recognition of him; her eyes didn't linger on his forehead. And when she faced him the bulge under her shirt (what kind of selfmurderer would wear long sleeves in this weather?) didn't have the shape of a wand. It had the shape of a gun.

It was a first time in Harry's life that a girl that didn't know anything about the Boy Who Lived offered to keep him company. His natural reaction was to be suspicious, yet his instincts told him there was no need to. She seemed to be in the same kind of mood as he – trying to get away from all people and all things that made his life to what it was – a tragicomical charade when the audience clapped loud to talented actors and waited breathlessly to see which of the main characters would die in the end. Strange… As though there were many coming through ordeals like his was… Or they just met pulled together by some kind of… coincidence.

Despite the unlikelihood of such occurrence, despite the weapon she carried, her behaviour indicated that she had no intention of harming _him_.

'Anyway, I have my wand at hand, so what could happen? Another Hearing at the Ministry? The geezers can bite themselves.'

He grinned, shook his head and sat down again.

"Not at all…"

'As long as you don't try to do me in. But you seem just eager to get a while off.'

She cast a dark look at the next swing before looking over the sandbox at the parkbench. Then the corners of her mouth twitched in a half-concealed smirk and she took a seat on the swing after all.

"So… What's your name?" he asked after a while of staring at the roundabout.

"I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you."

HPH

Integra, aware that she was supposed to be smirking, didn't feel up to it. She could tell with certainty that the cliché was old and well known, and she _did_ expect him to laugh.

Trouble was that he _didn't_ laugh. He arched an eyebrow, contemplated for a while, and then nodded.

"I suppose. Yeah, maybe it's a good idea. Do you have a nick?"

He thought it was a game. Well, she could play games – played them daily with Alucard. On the other hand, it was a relief to be able to play without the threat of sacrificing your life on the altar of inattentiveness, or just getting outwitted and killed. She decided she would talk to him, if only to keep her mind off the ugly faces of Her Highness's Knights.

'I have many as anyone and a few more… though they might be more effective in identifying me than my name. Like 'Virgin of Steel', or 'That Hellsing Sow'…'

He kept eyeing her quizzically and Integra felt for the first time since… she didn't even remember when, free. She could tell what she wanted and he seemed interested in listening. She never had any friends, because having friends demanded mutual trust and there simply was no way she could speak to her peers of her job. Not when she was a child and not now. To try an create an illusion of friendship was challenging.

Integra never backed from a challenge.

"Call me Mina."

He smiled and leant back, towards a chain, ceasing the scrutiny. It was a strange feeling, as though the _inspection_ was ceded, but at the same time she had lost the feeling of intensive interest expressed in her.

"Call me Jonathan."

Integra frowned. Was it too much of a clue? She watched his face, but it didn't seem as if he found anything strange about it. So he read classics… a lot of people read classics. Lot of people knew old Bram. And _Jonathan_ just played along.

HPH

Harry watched a woman with a tram walk past them. She was engrossed in the baby and didn't notice the two teenagers sitting in a place reserved for children. Except Mina (to whom nothing in the four weeks since the early beginning of the holiday could be compared), she was the most exciting thing that happened during the past half an hour and probably longer. Harry followed her with his eyes until she reached the clump of trees and then, seemingly accidentally, skimmed the trunks.

'Of course. I figured. But it might turn out pretty bad for her…' Being followed was not comfortable and he put up with it only because he knew how easy Voldemort could get to him anytime. But the way people around him were treated made him virtually separated from the society apart from Dursleys (who were worse than no society at all). The only reason why Mina managed to get to him was her abrupt coming.

"What are you looking for?" it was his turn to look startled. He took a good care to make his glance seem random, but she saw right through it. It was… weird. As though she could tell the difference… as though she could see in his mind. He was lousy at both Legilimency and Occlumency, but lessons with _that man_ taught him to at least recognise when somebody violated his mind.

Mina hadn't done anything of the sort. She merely possessed an incredible observing talent. He was hundred percent certain that _if _he lied, she would see through that just as easily. He was a _lousy_ liar anyway.

"My guard."

She followed the line of his gaze, and Harry had to admit she was a lot subtler about it. He, sitting two feet from her, knew where she was looking, but the wizard or witch hidden among the trees couldn't guess.

"I don't see anyone," she said about ten seconds later. Harry could neither, but that didn't mean anything when dealing with the _better_ members of the Order. He knew for a fact that only separate few were doing shifts on the 'Guarding Duty' this season. It must have been tough outside in the field, when the security around him reached this level.

"Trust me, they are there. They are just too good for you to see them."

"Invisible?" she suggested and Harry's jaw dropped, because there was not a hint of irony in the question.

"Now, what would make you think that?"

"Experience?" She shrugged.

Harry couldn't stop himself from gaping blatantly. He was _sure_ about her being a Muggle. It didn't make sense. And he had learnt from _his_ experience that if a matter didn't make sense, then he was missing something crucial. Of course, a _young_ girl that was dressed like a soldier, moved like an elite soldier, thought like a strategist and talked like a leader wasn't just an escaped actress. Even if she looked like one. But _what_ she _was_…

"War isn't a place for children," he said quietly.

"What could somebody like you know?" she scoffed and he thought he saw a shadow of anger on her face, though he might have imagined it.

_Kill the spare_… seventeen-year-old Cedric lifelessly falling on the grass. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville fighting Death Eaters in the halls of Hogwarts, side by side with trained Aurors of the Order… the six of them trying to escape a horde of dark wizards in the Department of Mysteries… Sixteen years – petrified, watching his last father-figure die… fifteen years – casting an Unforgivable in a fit of rage and pain… fourteen years – fastened to a tombstone, being stabbed in a dark rite of rebirth… twelve years – one on one with basilisk, dying of poison, the sight of Ginny's lifeless cold body, pain… eleven years, screaming in agony pressing his hands against blistered flesh of a wizard that was trying to kill him… a baby in a cradle, facing the tip of a wand, green light… two words.

'My life.'

HPH

The gall. How dare he speak of something he doesn't understand at all? A war? Was he a member of a gang, 'battling' another gang? It didn't seem so to her, she had already ruled out the possibility that he was a criminal. But…

Burning houses, burning bodies, dead children and children turning in dust in front of her eyes… a soldier gritting his teeth, drops of cold perspiration glittering on his forehead, as he emptied his magasine into an eight-year-old boy… fearing for his life. A Judas Priest beheading a row of toddlers after they had ripped the nurse into shreds… shards of glass deep in her palm and something slimy licking off the trickling crimson blood… Facing the barrel, shot, pain in her shoulder… Bullet advancing at her… Black sleeve in the line of her eyes, shaking hands steadied by the arm, shooting the her Uncle… the burning of teeth buried in her nape… Fanged Monster haunting the night, no _safe_ place, no _home_ – 'What is it, home?' – Alucard… reduced to a puddle of blood, ragged flesh that didn't even resemble flesh anymore… drop by drop rebuilding, regenerating himself… sick yet unable to let it show…

"What could somebody like _you_ know?" he retorted, though his own voice bore no hint of irritation. He was lost in his own faraway world just as she was. She just wasn't sure how great was the distance she managed to put between herself and _that_ reality.

"I thought they didn't use child-soldiers in civilised countries."

Now that was a laugh. _Civilised_.

"They generally don't," Integra said, at least pretending to be calm again. It was a game. Just a game. Nothing that happened was real. Nothing either of them said was real. There was no need to get worked up about _anything_.

"At least not on the Isles. The Queen forbade it. She really does… uh, loathe it… Apparently…" she mentally slapped herself for the slip-up. But it was too late and she couldn't do anything about it but hope that he hadn't noticed, or deduced that she was listening to news. Revealing that she personally knew the Queen would be slightly too much information.

He didn't erase her worry. His eyes glimmered with a new emotion – not anger, not sorrow, not jitters… Somehow she found out that didn't disappoint her. It meant he was worth the attention. As though… as though he truly knew wat he was talking about. She didn't believe in coincidences yet… How was it possible that he even existed? Not to speak about how was it possible that the two of them met? It confused her, and she despised being confused.

"And I thought I was the only one…" he whispered. She wasn't sure whether it was meant for her to hear, but now it all fit. Not a chess-player. After all, a real soldier. Though probably different from her in almost every aspect, all soldiers were always connected by something that was own to them only. She couldn't have known before… Still, now she was slightly ashamed of her previous accusation.

"Right. Sorry."

Jonathan shook his head to indicate it didn't bother him. Obviously. Compared to those things that really mattered, imperfect hold of one's temper might have seemed meaningless to him… but not to her, not when she might have been observed from the shadows. That was, after all, the reason why she didn't go back to Manor today. Had Jonathan been Alucard, she would have been dead by now.

He sighed.

"It's just… we're in the middle of the war and nobody notices."

Integra's eyes glinted. Jonathan fascinated her. He wasn't a civillian in the true sense of the word and thus his previous 'almost familiar' air of oddity ceased to exist. On the other hand, now she saw him as an equal and that was the first time she felt so towards a person _younger_ than her. Suddenly the vision of about an hour of 'friendship' seemed much more realistic.

"Tell me about it."

Jonathan laughed shortly, with the minimum amount of bitterness. He stared into her eyes, searching for something. Integra had no idea what it might have been. She knew all the fractions of armed forces that were doing the 'Supernatural Threats to State', and she knew their regulations. _None_ accepted men under twenty-one years of age.

And then, her eyes were always blue, a colour that by no stretch of imagination, in any light, could ever look like vampiric red.

"You are… no, you are not," he decided. She narrowed her eyes and returned the scrutiny. It was effectless. _Jonathan's_ eyes were the vividest, greenest green – as far from crimson as one could get.

"I am not a what?" she asked, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket. She had last four left. He gave her a raised eyebrow – apparently one of his favourite gestures – but didn't comment.

The lighter clicked and she sucked in the heavy and bitter and burning air… It was like a punch into face, like a birthday cake with strawberries and whipped cream (she had never got one, but Prince William had on one of the occassions she hadn't managed to _not_ attend), like black coffee, like heroine… it was a glimpse of Eden…

"Do you believe on magic?" he asked out of blue after a while, leaning over on the swing and staring straight up at the azure sky. His hair fell back, out of his face, and revealed a queer scar on his forehead. Integra felt uneasy just looking at it. Of course, she had her own scars, and a great many of them, but they were different. Scars from knives, swords, bullets, a comb, a harpune, a rake, arrows, a trammel, and she could go on for a while… but none of them looked as though they had been carefully drawn. Her enemies never had time to draw anything on her.

"What kind of magic?" she said, letting out a small cloud of smoke. Did it feel heavenly… Alucard was 'magical'. It the wrongest sense of the word. She, of course, didn't believe in him – she _knew _that he existed. Walter was magical, too, in a completely different sense. In him she did believe.

Jonathan seemed lost in recollections, but answered even from the land beyond the present.

"Prophecies, for example…" She pondered it. But, honestly, why not? If there could be demons running rampant over London, why not prophecies?"

"I think I _could_ believe on those."

Jonathan smirked sarcastically and Integra suddenly had the craziest idea that this 'random' underage 'civillian' might understand _her_. If she told _him_ about demons and freaks, _he_ wouldn't scoff, or send her to see a doctor…

"And what about Dark Lords trying to 'purge' the world of non-wizards and everybody who opposes him, using all means of mass killing and torture he can lay his claws on in the process?"

Demons. Wizards. Dark Lords. Every odd month.

"Yes, I can definitely believe on _those_."

She could tell she had shocked him. He stared at her for a while, trying to determine whether she was making fun of him or was really as crazy as she sounded… Maybe she had been too hopeful about him. Living with a vampire for years, what could they expect from her? That she stay sane?

'Ridiculous.'

"But still you… ever heard of Voldemort?"

Integra bit her lip and immediately reprimanded herself. She was just too tired to keep acting cool… She could use a vacation, but there was no one to do her work for her. Even this one afternoon was more than she could afford… she was going to have to make up for it in the next week…

She had heard and read a lot of crazy names and yet crazier nicknames during the five years of her carrier, and this one actually didn't sound as bad as it could have. But it didn't ring a bell. Whoever _he_ was, he was _not_ a Master Vampire in the Western Europe, _he_ was _not_ a demon, and _he_ was _not_ a member of Brittish Underworld.

"Not that I remember."

He shook his head in disbelief.

'Funny. He knows something most people don't. Like me. But I'd say it's a different _something_ then mine… and here I thought there was nothing I was oblivious to…'

"You know, you are not… stereotypical," Jonathan said finally. She laughed. For the first time in months, Integra Wingates Hellsing laughed good-naturedly, though more than a bit sarcastically. She and stereotypical were opposites. Definitely not something she could be accused of ever since her birth.

She measured him. The baggy jeans and grey oversized worn T-shirt made the impression of a way-too-baggy hip-hopper. But he didn't move like that. His motions were guarded, and his right hand swayed to the elephant-sized cotton-covered back pocket, as if checking on something.

'Time to find out what Jonathan's _something_ is. Lets not give Walter a reason to doubt I do my intelligence well. Bugger… there goes the innocent meaningless _game_…'

"My turn to ask. Who is this _Voldemort_?" Not that she had much of a chance that he would tell her. After they had decided to not tell their names, speaking of their _work_, or whatever it was for him, remained out of question.

"That evil guy I was talking about."

He was good. He answered, answered truthfully, told her what she asked an yet not quite what she wanted to hear. Integra would have been proud to clash with such an opponent in battle, though far from _happy_ about it… She was much happier to have his company in peace. Even though it was only for a few hours in the best case. She had to be far away from him before the sunset, lest Alucard… would _make troubles_.

"What does he have to do with you?" she iquired, although he had practically already told her that he was a part of the resistance against the bloke.

"His life goal is to kill me. And the entire wi- _nation_ expects me to stop him."

'I don't remember ever seeing his face in _any_ papers or on _any_ channel, so 'entire nation' is _somewhat_ exaggerating. Thinking of it… he wanted to say something else.'

He sighed heavily and Integra felt with him. She had never suspected that he might be an important character in the war, not to speak _crucial_, but it definitely seemed so… Any other person probably wouldn't believe it, but _she_ knew better.

'Let me guess…'

"A prophecy?"

It was a weird meeting, and her mind still didn't quite grasp it. She hated words like fateful, destiny, _prophecy_… but maybe this was an occasion that deserved one. A day when she realised she wasn't the only one. There were other people fighting other invisible wars, defending her side as she defended theirs…

"Exactly."

HPH

She had _not_ heard of Voldemort. She was _not_ a witch. And neither was she a Squib. That left a Muggle… With any other Muggle he would say they watched too much TV if they admitted believing in Dark Mages, but with her… Harry just didn't know.

After everything that happened in the last few months, when people turned out to be the opposites of what the others believed them to be, when he himself became virtually a completely different person, he had lost his self-consciousness about judging people. He wanted to like Mina. He would go as far as to say he _did_ like her, but it usually took more than twenty minutes to know somebody enough to decide whether you wanted to be friends with them.

And it took honesty – something which neither of them could provide. But on their own terms, they both decided that they can change the definition to fit their resources. He wanted to chat a bit. Mina wanted… whatever, probably get away and forget for a while. He saw no problem with that.

"So, what are you hiding from? Is Count Dracula on his way to get you?"

She shuddered. The smell of the cigar was _awful_, but he couldn't find it in himself to ask her to stop producing it. She seemed to feel so much better since she had lit it.

'Well… I can keep secrets and there's no one I could tell, anyway, but I suppose it's natural that she wouldn't speak of it to a total stranger…'

"Sorry… should have known you have chosen that name for a reason."

"No, that's alright. I'm not exactly fleeing. Just taking an afternoon off… it somehow demands my _butler_ not knowing where I am."

Harry nodded. He was taking _a month_ off. Not deliberately, though… he would run away from that vacation, had it not been Dumbledore's wish that he stay. He would flee. Definitely. Especially when the people he would be leaving were Dursleys… which lead him to…

"Whoa, they're being way hard on you-"

"Still not hard enough." Mina smirked and blew out the cigarette smoke. Harry had to admit she looked sexy like that, even in the slightly-worn male uniform. As long as he only _saw_ it and not _smelled_. She didn't quite smile, but her eyes shone. If what she thought about was her home, than Harry envied her, whatever her reasons for the temporary flight might have been.

"Do you want to go back?"

"I'm trying not to think about that… I have to go back and that's it."

Harry looked down at his hands. That sounded terrible – being bound to do something you didn't want to. Maybe he was a bit lucky with his own task. He _yearned_ to kill Voldemort and the fact that he was prophecied to do so might have been binding and horrifying on one hand, but on the other it also meant that he was going to get the opportunity along with a lot of training and resources.

'But what if I had to kill somebody else? The Minister? A Weasley? Dumbledore? _Merlin!_ If I had to kill Dumbledore… I couldn't do that…

Makes me wonder what it felt like to _that man_.' Funny, how he had no troubles saying 'Voldemort', but he just wasn't strong enough to force the name 'Snape' through his throat. The initial, simple-minded, straight hatred he had felt immediately after _it_ happened had receded. Now the emotion was much more complicated, planted in 1991st and grown over the years, containing a thread of every feeling he ever had because of _the man_…

"You have beautiful eyes," Mina said all of sudden. He looked up and, amazed, blinked away the already forming tears. She was so… straightforward. He had never met a girl that said what was on her mind without wrapping it in colourful phrases and hints. Maybe Hermione, sometimes, but only when he and Ron were especially thick and her temper ran short…

"Thanks," he replied, surprisingly without blushing. Was he gone so far that a compliment from a girl left him cool? "I would buy you a coke, but I don't have any money."

She laughed and kicked off the ground, letting herself swing a bit. Her hair flipped through the air with every amplitude.

"I can't afford to get romantically involved," she said and gave him a smile that didn't contain a iota of bitterness or regret. Harry smiled back, suppressing the memory of breaking up with Ginny.

"Funnily enough I can't either."

HPH

Integra so desperately wished to know _who_ the boy was. And it was just as much because of himself as it was because of the 'world' he represented. She knew that once she got back to the Manor she was going to be obsessed with figuring out the riddle. And she _was_ going to figure it out in the end… Or not. What if his records had been erased? What if he _didn't exist_ officially?

There were possibilities and questions floating in her strategist mind. Those _other soldiers_… why didn't they and Hellsing join forces? Or at least form some kind of alliance? Why hadn't _they_ contacted her yet? Didn't they know about Hellsing? And _who_ the Hell were _they_ in the first place?

She didn't know why, but she didn'tlike seeing Jonathan cry. She rarely saw people crying, but even she had seen many of them on occassions. Everyone did it differently. Some sobbed, some howled, some just let the tears flow… Jonathan was sitting on the grass, where they had moved from the swings after an old lady threatened them with walking stick, and stared blankly. There were no visible tears, his face wasn't screwed up in a grimace of sorrow, but he was thinking of something incredibly hurtful of him.

It was disconcerting. She wished he would either cede it or start crying for real. Or at least blink. After almost half an hour of the silence she stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, but relaxed almost immediately. His eyes were already focused as he looked up at her.

"Is there a snack bar around here?"

"Yeah. Go that way to Magnolia Crescent and turn left. About fifty meters from there."

"Wait for me. I'll be right back."

She set out across the lawn in the direction he had pointed out, checking on her motorbike fleetly. She doubted somebody would try to steal it in the meantime and if… well, she didn't doubt Jonathan would take care of it, whether she asked him or not.

"Wait, Mina!" she halted and looked back over her shoulder. His glance shifted to the now distant group of trees and he frowned. "Be careful."

'Good to know.' She nodded. Jonathan apparently was just as 'guarded' as she was…

She got there and back with her senses strained and ready to strike at any time, but no one tried to talk to her. The woman at the snack-bar seemed surprised hen she saw her, and almost grateful for the distraction.

With two bottles of ice-cold mineral water in her left pocket and her right hand ready to fly to her gun she walked back to the park. It seemed that Jonathan hadn't moved from the spot, though now he was lying on the grass with a hand thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. She risked a glance up – thick white clouds started to gather slowly.

"Hey, catch!"

He bolted up just in time to save the bottle from shattering, showing _some_ reflexes. Integra was _surprised_.

"Thanks. You know, I don't like _you_ buying it but-"

"You don't have money. I know. Don't worry, I'll put it on the bill and the state will pay for it."

He laughed and nodded, eyeing the cap with distaste. Integra rolled her eyes, reached into her boot and recovered a knife. With a flick of her wrist her bottle was open and she reached over for his.

"Let me."

He drank half of it quickly, hungrily, and sighed with pleasure. She suspected that he had nothing to drink in hours. Idiot. It was the easiest way to roast your brain – don't wear a cap, sit in the direct sun, get dehydrated. She slumped down on the ground and lay beside him, playing with the two pieces of metal in her hand.

"Now that I made sure you won't dry up and die… Wouldn't you like to tell me what ails you?"

HPH

'Why should I? You didn't tell me anything. It wouldn't be rational…'

But Harry felt like telling her _something_. After all, he had no one he could speak to about the things on his mind and she, probably, wouldn't judge him. Bonus was that if he managed to retell it in parallels, she might never know what exactly he was talking about, which was better than if he spoke to any of his friends.

"There was this man… lets call him Ben Kenobi, when you've started with classics. And then there was this other man, sort of Darth Vader, but inversed. The one people _suspected_, but Ben always believed to be a good guy. And then Darth Vader killed Ben Kenobi." He hushed and went over the things he just said in his mind. "Does that make sense?"

"Didn't it happen so in the movie?" Mina asked, squinting, trying to remember. So she, after all, wasn't a movie fan. Now that he had a silhouette of an idea about what she had to do in her life, the suspicion about her being a movie fan seemed hilarious. He hadn't seen too many movies himself, but he had watched this one from the shadowy spot behind the banister of the stairs when Dudley fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV during one holiday. He sort of liked it…

"It did… but this was not a movie. I thought that real life was supposed to be different from movies."

Mina chuckled and shook her head.

"It's not. Do you really want to know what _is_ different?"

She sneaked a glance at her. Her face was straight, but her eyes glinted, cold and sharp as steel. She was not a philosopher. If she knew something like the answer to this, it was not from books, but from experience. Question was… Did he _really_ want to know?

"Yeah."

"The death," she said indifferently. "There is nothing tragic, nothing heroic about it. There is just screaming and fear and lot of pain before… and silence, blood and terrible stink after…" She talked about it as he would talk about a movie. As though it wasn't real… or was real but nothing disconcerting. Either she was a bit crazy, or…

"Not always…" he said, driving the ungrounded suspicons out of his head. He had to say that.

"Always," she argued.

"No. I know other kind of death. I've seen it," he whispered. She knew a lot of things about war, but her war was different.

"You've-"

"Seen death? Does it surprise you?" he arched an eyebrow. He hated the gesture, but it had developed by itself, along with his sarcasm. He sometimes hated himself for not being able to stop doing it, because it reminded him of _that man_.

"No," Mina said without hesitation. So she had guessed that much. Well, that made the talking easier.

"Was it Ben Kenobi?"

"Yes. And others. An unfortunate Luke Skywalker…" Yes, were there not for Han and Ben, Luke would have ended like Cedric. In the first twenty minutes. But Luke was the main character… He was sort of like Harry. The others around him were dying so he could live on and come out victorious…

"What was it like?"

"What?" he asked, startled from the pointless musing.

"The death. I know only that kind when people's insides are ripped out and dragged over the pathways…" she said and Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt. He didn't like the imagination. Not at all. He forced himself to speak.

"There are two words. And a lot of light. And then the silence you spoke about. Just the… the person doesn't look any different. They are just dead."

He didn't give a damn that she might guess about magic. She had already admitted she believed in it and, anyway, he gave her no _evidence_ with admitting that it existed. They both had already revealed more information that they had intended to and, frankly, by this time he ceded to care. It's been long since he had enjoyed talking to somebody.

"Spooky."

He turned away.

"Yeah. But not as disturbing as people's guts over… oh Merlin. I think I'm gonna be sick…" He suppressed the urge, willing his intestines to calm. She cast him a quizzical glance, as though she couldn't comprehend why.

"Much _more_ disturbing, trust me… What was that?"

"What?"

"What you said. 'Merlin'…"

"Fuck." That was a bit too much of a clue. "Forget it."

"Most people would say goodness, or God, or-"

"I said forget it."

HPH

"You don't believe in God, do you?" Integra asked after a while.

"I don't. Does it matter?"

She contemplated it. In her _business_, faith was a well-paid goods. But to him… It might have been irrelevant. She had naver been given a choice regarding her own faith, and consequently was less judgmental about other people. They also might have been _forced_ to believe in something.

"Not now."

Jonathat lifted on his elbows. He was chewing on a half-dried blade of grass in a way so undignified, that it suited him perfectly. It was blatantly obvious that he didn't give a damn if she knew that he liked chewing grass, or that he didn't elieve in God… those things weren't important. What was important to him though, at least judging by his next statement, were _people_.

"I'm sorry I got into a flap. I messed up and-"

"Was angry with yourself. Would you accept advice?" she asked, not quite sure why. He nodded. "Don't let your comrades ever see you like that. Neither superiors, not subordinates. Make them believe you _don't_ make mistakes."

That was what she did – had been _taught_ to do, actually. It started when she was so small that she didn't yet know the proper wording for a courteous apology, when she was patiently explained that she was 'special', and should never apologise. She did that nowadays, she did it a lot… in her head, when Alucard was safely away.

"I will still know…" he reproached quietly. She closed her eyes and opened them again. No matter what Jonathan had been through, he still had a long way to go. He was somewhere in between – not a soldier, yet not a civilian. It was a sad status, demanding and unrewarding.

"Yes, but their moral, and their _respect_ towards you, mustn't be allowed to waver."

This was one of the things she had to learn fast. Thirteen years old and a girl, acquiring respect from her subordinates had been one of the most difficult tasks in her carrier… in her life. But she had managed, with Walter's help and support, she had managed to keep her soldiers in line, Alucard in his place, and the Knights appeased. She had been managing for five years.

'But that could be the catch – maybe there's no _Walter_ for Jonathan… But he's not a girl, and older than thirteen… He _can_ do it.'

"How- I know, it's not my business, but how old are you?"

"I'll be seventeen…"

'Seventeen. He does look younger… at least he's a boy. Good for him.'

She brought out her (only) second cigarette since coming here, and turned back to Jonathan. He was lost in his musings again. Integra had a distinct feeling that he thought too much – not that a lot of thinking couldn't be useful, but it depended on the subject. She was pretty sure he didn't contemplate strategy at the moment…

Seconds later he proved her suspicion right.

"It was my fault."

"What was your fault?" Integra asked, already rolling her eyes inwardly. Self-blame never helped anyone in anything but self-destruction. He was supposed to be a fighter, for pity's sake…

"It was my fault. Their deaths. All of them. _He_ only wants me, but I am the only one who can kill _him_. I cannot die, not while he is still alive because…"

Integra wanted to tell him straight that it was a bull-dust, but then she remembered what he had told her about the prophecy stuff and… shortly, she didn't feel so confident about that response. Maybe there was a sprinkle of truth in what he said…

"Then destroy him."

"What?"

"Take the best warriors you have. Make a squad that is capable of faultless co-operation, equip them and give orders. _Search and Destroy._"

That was the way _she_ lived. It might have been simplistic yet it always provided a clear answer. Kill human enemies. Slay the dead. Let their souls rest in peace.

"It's not that easy-"

"It is."

HPH

Mina just didn't understand. The Death Eaters were people like himself, only on the wrong side. He couldn't simply find them and 'destroy' them, as she suggested. Then he would be no different from Voldemort.

But the idea she had presented had some strong – and usable – points. The Order of the Phoenix was full of eager fighters, but not all of them were skilled enough. And many – like Mundungus – didn't have the right priorities. Maybe, if they could filter out these people, they could create a swift, efficient force. It would be small, but… the less troubles it would provide…

It would be ideal if he could go alone, but he didn't kid himself. There was no way he could survive. It would take somebody like… like Dumbledore. Or _that man_. Much as Harry abhorred _him_, the skills, the determination, the efficiency… _he_ had it all.

"How do I create a team that can… how did you say it?"

Mina glanced at him wearily and Harry could tell he had asked something stupid.

"Co-operate faultlessly?" she repeated herself. Yes, that was it. Faultless co-operation. He wondered how to achieve such a thing. It might have been the lack of that, which hindered them… Of course, Voldemort's forces were yet less organised, consisting of wizards who had to make public appearances and take part in social life of the community to keep appearances, but he also commanded ranks of magical creatures and those were… unstoppable.

He had always imagined that they would kill Tom, cut off the proverbial head, and the rest of his Dark Army would simply fall apart… but _how_ were they supposed to do that… It was unlikely that he would find the answer from a girl he coincidentally met in the playpark, but if, then he wasn't going to complain.

Mina stood up from the grass and stared at the sky. It was getting colder and darker. She seemed disconcerted by the fact and scrutinised about every edge and plant in the sight. Predictably, she found nothing.

"If you can't figure that on your own, then you are not prepared to go to war."

Harry's jaw dropped. That… didn't help.

HPH

Integra knew she had disappointed him, but if he wasn't fit to lead, then he shouldn't be let to, for it would only end in a pointless slaughter of his men. She liked Jonathan – yes, Integra Wingates Hellsing actually liked that boy a great lot. She would offer him a place in her organisation once he was of age… but he didn't belong there. And he wouldn't accept it anyway – he had _his_ duty. Just as she wouldn't leave and join him in whatever war he was fighting… their meting was just an improbable intersection of two different worlds that was never meant to happen, and that should remain without any major consequences. At least, she was determined to keep it like that.

"Have… have you aver killed someone?" he asked, staring somewhere to the East. She could see nothing there, but his lips quirked up a bit, before he again became grave.

Integra didn't want to talk to him about that. But then she realised that in the end it didn't matter. He didn't know who she was, he couldn't hold anything against her, it couldn't become her weak point. On the other hand, seeing her example might help him to come to terms with what he had to do.

"Yes. I've slain monsters. And I've killed humans."

Jonathan didn't seem horrified. He didn't even seem affected by what she said – she had expected no less.

"Was there another way?"

She shrugged.

"People say there is always another way. But people also say that vampires don't exist and boogie-man was made up to scare the children."

"Boogie-man _was_ made up to scare the children."

"You can choose to believe what you want to believe… You _do_ have that choice. Use it…" She was guessing, but judging by his expression her guess was accurate. "But…"

"But?" he inquired and his eyes strayed to the East again. She followed the line of his gaze and spotted a dark dot on the horizon.

'Did he see _that_ before? Impossible…'

"But you have to believe in yourself in the first place. Sounds like a cliché shit-"

"But makes sense," Jonathan interrupted her and smiled. "Yeah, it does. Thanks, Mina… Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome."

Integra shrugged. Whatever it was he had thanked her for. Because she had no idea.

The dot meanwhile grew, and now she could make out the shape of a bird. She wouldn't have payed it any attention (as long as it wasn't a _bat_), but for the interest Jonathan didn't bother to conceal, and the fact that it flew steadily in their direction.

"I suppose it's not a threat," Integra said, watching the bird lessen the distance between itself and the two teenagers.

"Well, she's a bit judgemental… and gets jealous time to time…"

It took Integra a while to realise that he actually answered her question. She left the Beretta where it was and apprehensively waited, watching the bird descend. Jonathan took three quick steps forwards to meet it. It landed on his forearm without even scratching him, implying a lot of training in the past.

Jonathan spun and grinned at her. He held a white snowy owl that sharply conrasted with his dark complexion. Two pairs of eyes – one emerald green and the other yellow-gold – gazed at her and for a while she saw him as a completely different person. She had seen a lot of old records and he resembled the teenage Walter.

'So maybe there is a hope for him…'

"Mina, meet-" he hesitated, "Meet Hedwig."

There was a letter attached to the bird's leg. That was… unexpected. She could have understood if he kept the animal as his pet. Hell, she would have understood if it landed and re-shaped itself into a humanoid… but entrusting an _owl_ with informations?

"You are using a bird as a mean of communication?"

"She's faster, safer and more reliable than a human messenger. Although owls can be intercepted too… It is just not as easy… And they can't be bought over."

Integra breathlessly stared as he unfastened the letter. The bird hooted lowly and pecked Jonathan's ear. It was so… medieval. Naturally, she wouldn't have expected something like that of _her_ enemy… She pondered it, but in the end decided that this boy had _nothing_ to do with her enemy.

Which might have been, by the look of it, lucky for her.

"She sent a reply to Ron, too. Deliver that one. I'll meet you tomorrow in the back garden an hour before midnight, alright?"

Integra was infinitely grateful for her self-control.

"You can _talk_ to birds?"

He grinned at her and patted _Hedwig's_ head. The owl hooted again, pecked his nose leaving a red mark, and took off in the direction of the twilight. Jonathan's eyes followed her long after she was out of sight. Then he shrugged.

"A bit. It's more like Hedwig can understand humans. But she's just as obstinate as I am… which means trouble more often than not. She was too tired to be angry with me now."

"And still, you sent her away."

"I cannot…" he sighed.

"Look, you've already revealed so much, that this bit won't hurt, would it?"

"I suppose not. I cannot bring her into the house. My relatives hate her."

She just stopped herself from scoffing. _Relatives_. She remembered two of hers – one was the greatest man in the world for her, and yet he left her with duty and responsibility much too weighty for a thirteen-year-old. The other was her Uncle… If Jonathan's relatives were like hers, she wasn't surprised that he preferred the company of an owl… or solitude, for that matter.

"And she can tell time."

"Approximately."

"Wicked," she said, not sure whether he was being earnest or successful and unwilling to make a mistake. "Where can I get such a bird?"

"Sorry." He did genuinly seem to be. So that owl _could_ tell time. That was so… so… fairy-tale-ish. Not real. Alucard was real. She took a deep breath and then quietly let it out. That was fine. She just had to think of the Monster… that way she wouldn't get conused by this strange fantasy alive…

"That would be telling way too much. I guess that if the Ministry ever finds out how much did I tell you, they'll chuck me into- into prison."

"Which Ministry?" she asked, already getting a grip of herself. It wasn't entirely too hard – all she had to do was picture Alucard licking the brain and blood from half of a head he had just… _detached_ from one of his victims.

"Same answer."

"Oh… sure. I understand that. I just…"

"You are curious. I am curious too. But for the sake of a great many people, us two including, we'll have to rein it."

'He had stolen my line…' thought Integra awestruck. Those sudden outpours of wisdom, alternating with startling naivety baffled her. He was a child and not a child. Old, but not adult. Fighter, but civillian. Not optimistic, not realistic, not pesimistic… and yet not resigned. He was an enigma.

A shadow creeped over Jonathan's face and Integra realised it was getting dark. She had expected Walter to find her by this time. It was awfully late…

"I'll have to go."

If she didn't go now, Alucard would find her soon. While she was so close Alucard could locate her within minutes. He would be furious… in that annoying mock-cool way of his… And then she would get mad, lose concentration, make mistakes, lose men… She had to go, because Alucard would _kill_ Jonathan before she had a chance to do anything.

"I know. Be careful."

He was smiling at her, the same way he had been smiling at the owl. It lit up his face, yet didn't make him seem a day younger… Just momentarily let the observer forget that inside he was hurting. Because he was.

And then, when she stopped concentrating on his smile and started processing again (he had _distracted_ her!), the implications of what he had said hit her.

"How do you-"

"I'm good in picking the clues and putting them together. _Slaying monsters._ _Search and Destroy. _Your choice of nickname… and your reaction when I mentioned Count Dracula."

Integra set out towards the motorcycle, and Jonathan followed. She made effort to stay half a step in front of him, so he couldn't see her expression. She didn't manage to deduce nowhere near as much as him… and yet, all this time, he let on nothing. Absolutely nothing. Playing clueless… He even let her meet an animal with human skills, something that she had _not_ believed existed… And then she remembered how it all started. As a game.

'Well, I cannot blame him for playing along.'

"Don't tell anybody about it. He'd have your head," she said, taking her helmet from his hands. He mock-gulped.

"No? Vlad personally… I really should have chosen a different name. Now he's after me…"

Integra slid into the seat and took the handlebars, frowning at the green-eyed smiling boy.

"It's not funny."

"Right. But this is my way of dealing with it. Goodbye, Mina. Be careful."


	2. Apology

I want to apologise to everybody who reviewed _Call me Mina_ and/or added it to their alert/favorite. I meant to write a sequel since about the fourth positive reaction I received, and I started a few times, too, just… it never quite made sense and the imagination faltered. Yet, do not despair, ladies and gentlemen, for there it is, the brand new, ready to be devoured, following a successful older sibling of a story, the _Nothing like Harker_!

You can access it through my profile. Also, it is a chaptered fic and will be three or four chapters long (depending on how the last chappie grows).

I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Cheers,

Brynn


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